The Practice of Discernment

This week, I experimented with a mindfulness app that rings a bell at random moments throughout the day. Each time it sounded, I was invited to pause and ask a simple question:

Where am I right now?

Sometimes, I was fully present and immersed—connecting with colleagues or friends, doing laundry, walking the dog. Other times, I had wandered into the future. Into planning…Into worry…Into wishful fantasy…

Into trying to solve something that had not yet happened.

The bell became more than a reminder to be present. It became a teacher.

I discovered something about each of these trips. Often, they revealed something important: a task needing attention, a conversation worth having, a truth asking to be faced. In those moments, I could intentionally choose wise action or recognize something important in my life.

Other times, I found myself on that well-worn path of fixing—trying to control an outcome, settle an uncertainty, or force a plan. That kind of future travel didn’t bring peace. It brought tension.

And so the deeper practice this week was not simply returning to the present. It was discernment.

What needs action now?

What needs patience?

What belongs to me?

What must be entrusted to others, to time, or to life itself?

As many of you know, life does not ask these questions in theory. It asks them in real time.

Sometimes in joyful moments—celebrating enduring friendships, recovery, meaningful work, family gathered close. Sometimes in difficult ones—when someone we care about is struggling, and the most loving action may be to loosen our grip.

Spring seems to understand this wisdom. It doesn’t reveal everything at once. The forsythia, daffodils, pear, cherry—each blossom on their own schedule. Some swiftly disappear, some linger, each day a slightly different landscape.

Perhaps showing us that meaningful growth is less about having the right answers and more about learning the rhythm of wise response.